


Trails Left On Our Skin

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Series: The Silent Cries [14]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Celebrations, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Duff and Slash celebrate starting Velvet Revolver.
Relationships: Duff McKagan/Slash
Series: The Silent Cries [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823191
Kudos: 6





	Trails Left On Our Skin

* * *

"I still can't believe we did it." Duff said, grinning, passing the cigarette over to Slash and exhaling the last of the smoke. "Bye, bye Guns and Roses, hello Velvet Revolver." Smoke curled around their heads, providing a sort of noir backdrop for their late night talk outside the hotel they were staying at. He passed the cigarette back, and as he did, Duff felt cold skin brush up against his in a way that definitely didn't feel accidental. Slash smirked, "After how many years?" He said without a questioning tone, looking off into the distance, a bright moon framing a dark sky. 

For some reason, the darkness suited them. Maybe because their anonymity lied within where nobody could see them, or where nobody was there to see them. Duff appreciated how alone the night could feel, how the most feared part of daily life provided a comfort, if not for others, then for them. Shielding their faces, making them look like any other persom. Two people who had fallen in love with the wrong people, friends whom had became so much more. "I think this deserves a celebration." Duff said, almost as an offering. He wiggled his eyebrows, and Slash snorted, coughing on the smoke. "What kind of celebration do you have in mind?" He asked, deliberately playing coy. 

Duff could hear the interest in Slash's voice, could see how alert he was now, and felt the first stirrings deep within himself as he imagined would come next. "Whatever you want, as long as it's with me." Duff replied. Slash dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot, sounded begrudgingly amused when he spoke again. "Okay, then let's go to a library. I wanna find-" He was cut off by Duff leaning foward, and catching curly hair within his hand, securing Slash against him as they kissed. 

Lightly, but enough to get the message across, Duff lightly tugged on Slash's bottom lip with his teeth. Slash moaned and pulled away, panting slightly. "Are you seriously doing this to me?" He said, faking irritation. Duff chuckled, low and deep in his chest, and Slash shivered, though it wasn't because of how chilled the air was. 

Quite the opposite, actually.

"Should we take this inside?" Slash asked when hands began to wander down, when a pleasant heat began to burn within Duff's body. 

Duff force himself to pull away, standing up from where they were sitting on a sort of cement block near the pool. He offered a hand for Slash to take, pulling him up and throwing his arm around Slash's shoulders, walking foward their hotel room, shared under the pretense of having to save money. Maybe they knew. Maybe they saw how close Duff and Slash were, saw the hungry kisses and times where neither could wait until they were away, far from prying eyes, and that was okay. As crazy as it sounded, fame and fortune and reputation didn't hold a candle to this brining desire, passion, and the feeling of Slash's body beside Duff's as the hotel room door was unlocked, opened, and shut again. 

The door was locked, and Duff barely had time to turn again before Slash had him by the lapels of his jacket, pushing him against the wall gently but firmly, his eyes burning bright with urge as lips met, an attempt at both eager and slow, like they wanted to get it over and done with but also wanted to savor these moments between them. 

Twelve years ago, Duff would've never guessed that this was where he'd find himself in the years to come, pressed up against a wall and feeling Slash and his body pressed close, hands rising to keep wild hair from intruding upon the moment. Teeth scraped against lips, and hands clutching hips, and the struggles and worried that sat in their minds disappeared, temporarily, at least, under the silence that took them, under the want to just be together. 

It was more than either of them could've hoped for years ago, after times of hurt and pain and longing, and no matter what came next, no fear or darkness could pull them apart. There was a determination and a desperation to keep close, and nothing could keep them apart. Not now, not ever. 


End file.
